Remnants
by CarsAndTelephones
Summary: The Enterprise flies to a remote planet to prevent a genocide from occurring. Instead, the crew finds tragedy at the loss of their captain--but is he really lost?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note-- This is my first time writing an actual fanfic, please read and review and tell me what you think! Constructive criticism more than welcome. This is looking to be a kind of longer fic if I get my butt in gear and actually write the darn thing.... The stuff between Uhura and Kirk here is purely friendship :) **

_The Enterprise fights to prevent a genocide when a race with highly advanced bio-weaponry decides to make even on a grudge they've been holding against a separate race living on the same planet._

**Chapter 1  
**

"Go!" He meant it to come out as a shout, but the breath required for such a command failed him, and instead he wheezed the word, barely more forceful than a whisper.

"But, Kirk—"

"This is a direct order, now GO!" He had regained his composure and with it came his voice, this time full of the authority granted to him.

"Kirk." She drew herself up as much as she could from behind the shredded sheet that provided the little cover they had amidst the melee before them. "_Captain. _I'm not—I _won't_ leave you—"

He didn't allow her to get another word further in her sentence. Cutting across her, he held up his hand, "Lieutenant, we don't have time for this. Now this is an order. Go back, find Spock, find the crew, give them the device, and tell them what happened. I'll cover you from here."

Uhura hesitated. A tear glistened in the corner of her eye but she brushed it away impatiently. "We can go together—I'm gonna get you out of—"

"We're wasting time right now with this conversation. There's no way you could get this damn thing off me, now quit protesting and get the hell out of here. I'm not having you die as well." He paused, the ghost of a cocky grin flitting across his haggard face. "Spock'd kill me."

Uhura stared down at the captain in front of her. She could hear shouts and screams mingled with the fires and blasts emitted from phasers coming steadily closer to their position, but none of it seemed to matter in this moment, these seconds trapped behind their fragile screen. James Kirk was bleeding profusely, a gash in his chest slowly seeping blood through the makeshift bandage and onto the floor, and a collapsed support beam trapping his broken legs beneath its impossible weight. In his hand he still gripped the one good phaser they had between the two of them, and on the floor beside him lay the remains of two broken communicators, the first smashed by the beam, the second disintegrated when Uhura's foot had connected with it in her haste to reach the fallen captain. She reached out and gripped his arm with a shaking hand. "You're Jim Kirk," she whispered urgently, "You're Jim Kirk and you—you _never_ give up. You fly into trouble, dive off cliffs, get beat up, shot at, threatened, and all sorts of horrible stuff but you _never_ give up. Now, come on. I'm not leaving you," she reiterated, blinking the hot, frustrated tears out of her eyes. "I'm not."

Jim's eyes, glazed though they had been a second before, cleared as they searched for Uhura's. Piercing blue found deep brown as Jim struggled for the breath to issue one last command. "Give up? Uhura, please," he wheezed with the little disdain he could muster, the half smile back upon his whitened face, "I'm not _giving up_. Now if you please, I've got a crewmember and friend's life to save, so if you'll just start running I can do my job, and you can do yours." He lifted the phaser in determination, locking it to the kill setting.

Uhura glared at Jim. Lifting her chin and blinking furiously she drew a shaky breath, fully intending to state once again her desire to stay with her dying captain, but he spoke before she had the chance to protest. "Uhura," he said, holding her gaze. "Uhura, that device _has_ to get back to Starfleet command. Without that information, we have no proof, no evidence of the Maridians' plan. Without it we can't prove anything. Can't save any lives, can't stop this genocide, can't change anything—you _have_ to get it back to the Enterprise." His breath was coming in gasps now. They both knew he had little time. "Please," he whispered.

And the quiet plea scared Uhura more than anything she had heard that night. It scared her more than the sight of the dead Shenkaran council's bodies strewn about the floor of the Great Hall, scared her more than Spock's last urgent glance at her before they had parted, scared her more than all the near misses and near deaths the crew had experienced during the entire horrific encounter. Here, in this moment, James T. Kirk was going to die. James Kirk, who had cheated death knowingly for years with that cheeky grin on his stupid face the entire time. James Kirk, who never accepted death because death simply wasn't an option. James Kirk, who gave her hope in her own stubbornness through his abject unwillingness to surrender. She gripped his arm more tightly still.

He breathed in once. Again. The seconds dragged on, his eyes bright; determined. "You can't save me. But you can save them. We can save them. Please. Go."

"Okay." She whispered, finally submitting to the inevitable. "Okay, Jim."

She bent down and kissed him on the forehead lingeringly. When she drew back, he was grinning through his haze of pain and blood loss. "Better not tell Spock about that." He gripped her hand with his free hand, gently removing it from his face. "Now go."

With a shuddering breath, Uhura sat up straight, jerked her uniform smooth, and wiped fresh tears from her face, suddenly business-like. Snatching the small data disc off the floor beside her, she tucked it into her belt and prepared to sprint for the open blast doors directly ten meters to their left. Kirk's face was so white he looked as if he hadn't any blood left, but he gripped his phaser doggedly and nodded to her.

With one last glance at Kirk, Uhura braced herself and then ran faster than she had ever run in her short life towards the opening that was her one hope that this mission had not been a failure; that some good could still come out of tragedy. Phaser blasts erupted above her head and shattered rock and stone about her feet, but she passed through untouched. She heard a strangled cry from her right and turned just in time to see a Maridian soldier fall, shot from behind. Kirk, despite his closeness to death, was doing his job to the very end. With a duck of her head and a final sidestep of a fallen Shenkaran, she fell into the opening, gasping with the pain of loss and desperation. For several long moments, Nyota Uhura remained where she had fallen, sobbing, face pressed against the cool floor of the deserted corridor while hell raged on behind her. But she could not stay in this position no matter how much she wanted to. Rolling to her feet, she dragged herself to the control pad on the wall beside the opening and closed the heavy blast door that was her last link to the doomed captain of the Enterprise. With shaking hands, she keyed the command to seal the door. She could not help but think irrationally that with the seal of that door, she had betrayed her friend. It was the final condemnation. There was no help for him now. She dissolved into sobs once more as she made her way up the corridor, trying to run but unable to shake the horror that plagued her.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's note-- Thanks to everyone who read the first chapter! You guys rock! This chapter's a bit short because I've been super busy the last week and I think I'm going to be super busy in coming weeks, but I at least wanted to update a little. This being said, this chapter's much less dramatic than the previous one. Thought I'd give poor Jim a break. Hope it's good though! Again, please read and review!!! It means a lot :) Oh--did a minor edit on the Prologue and changed it to Chapter 1. Makes more sense._

**Chapter 2**

Jim watched with grim satisfaction as the blast doors closed behind Uhura's vanishing form. She had done it. She had escaped alive. Of course, Jim thought, there was no way in hell he would have let her die when he could have prevented it. But with the departure of Uhura came the departure of his already waning strength. The arm that held the phaser dropped uselessly to his side, simply unable to hold the weight of the weapon anymore. He let his eyes slide half closed despite the madness that ensued around him. His task was complete, the disc had been (hopefully) delivered safely, and now all he had left to do was die, along with all the others who had died that night. At least some good would come of this mess, Kirk mused halfheartedly through a stupor of pain and blood loss. If—no, _when _Uhura made it back to the Enterprise they could stop this insanity before it became too widespread.

Phaser blasts, more subdued than they had been in the heat of the battle, fired overhead as the last of the Shenkaran resistance fell to the strength of the Maridians. The sounds of the battle grew faint until finally an eerie silence settled across the deadened room. Dust clogged the air, charred holes marred the walls, the floor was hot and cracked, and Jim Kirk sat where he had fallen, trapped beneath a crumbled support beam unable and unwilling to move. He thought dully that of all the times he almost died; all the near misses he had encountered and all the near-fatal injuries he had sustained in the past two years aboard the Enterprise. Of all those times, there had always been someone there to save him, or he had saved himself, but this time was different. He had no help. His crew wasn't coming because they couldn't. Now the only thing to do was accept death and accept that he had done everything he could to protect his crew. _Here's to you, Dad,_ he thought blearily.

His eyes were refusing to focus properly though at that point he didn't exactly care. The world around him had become a blur of red and gray and blue and he thought bemusedly that he rather did not like the effect. But luckily he did not have to endure the blurred technicolor vision for too long because his vision had started to go dark along the edges. The world was swirling into a pit of darkness and there was nothing he could do but wait for it to come….

… And yet out of the darkness came a sea of bright blue lights flying towards him as if he were in hyperspace and they were stars. In all his near death encounters, Kirk had never seen blue sparks before. Kirk decided he liked them. They seemed friendly in a way that put him in mind of home—of the Enterprise. _If this is dying_, Kirk thought, _it really isn't half bad_. The lights continued to twinkle cheekily at him in a vaguely pretty sort of way, dipping and spiraling in and out of his vision. He watched them, now dimly intrigued. They seemed to be landing on him, culminating in the area of his chest and working into his skin and into his very being, warming and comforting him.

_Weird,_ Kirk thought.

He tried to squint at them, but found he did not need to squint at all. For instead of allowing the world to dissolve further into darkness or creating the telltale white light that Kirk had never really believed he would ever see, the blue sparks seemed to be letting him bring the world back into focus. He shook his head dizzily. Sure enough, he could make out objects around him that had been shapeless blurs only moments before. He could see dark figures moving in the wreckage of the battle, and the occasional blaze of phaser fire, and still those little blue lights swarming about the expansive room, hovering in patches together and then disbanding suddenly only to regroup somewhere else.

Kirk blinked hard, struggling for coherent thought. It seemed that these mysterious lights were in the process of healing him. Indeed, the lights that had settled on his chest suddenly disbursed to reveal—

Nothing. He had no gash on his chest. No sign of injury at all where he had previously been leaking copious amounts of blood. _Okay, _Kirk thought as the blue lights swarmed his legs and he felt his bones shifting back into place, _this is unexpected._ The only thing that the lights seemed incapable of doing was lifting the dead weight of the support beam off his legs, but the physical wounds on Kirk's body had healed completely as if they had never been. Thinking fast, Kirk assessed his situation.

The lights must have been some sort of medical technology developed by the Maridians. After all, they had highly advanced bio-weaponry, so it seemed logical that they would have advanced medicine as well. But Kirk did not waste time to question how exactly the lights had cured him; it was enough that he was alive at all. He had more pressing matters to attend to. He thought it rather unlikely that the Maridians had _meant_ for him to be cured (the lights seemed to be functioning on autopilot, swarming wherever they found injury) and if this were the case, then he had a limited amount of time before they found out that they had just cured someone they wanted dead.

Kirk glanced around his shoddy screen from his position on the floor to see that sure enough, a group of soldiers patrolled the front end of the room combing it, phasers out and pacing steadily closer to his hiding place.

_Shit._

_Assets_, Kirk thought woozily, _What are my assets? _His hands scrabbled on the ground around him and came in contact with a smooth handle. He grabbed it and lifted the object in front of his eyes. The phaser. _Good. That'll hold them off for about twelve seconds. Perfect_. Holding on to it, Kirk scoured the ground before him for anything else remotely useful. The only things he found within reach were the remains of the two communicators and a smattering of rubble and debris. _Well, great_, Kirk reflected wryly, _if the phaser_ _gives out, I can throw rocks at their heads. Even more perfect._ But Kirk could not help but think that despite his less than ideal situation he had not been cured just so he could die again. _Almost die_, Kirk corrected himself hastily. He was sure that the lights, amazing as they were, could not bring anyone back from the dead no matter what the situation. This grim thought, however, only steeled his resolve. He was not going to die. Not tonight.

Phaser still in hand, Kirk peeked around the sheet once again. The soldiers had come uncomfortably close—close enough where Kirk could see the glint of their eyes even in the dim lighting. He sat back heavily, weighing his options. Either he could fire at the soldiers from where he sat and hopefully take out as many of them as he could before they noticed and overpowered him, or he could sit there and wait for them to find him and _then_ take as many out as he could. The options, Kirk decided, were not good.

All the same he gripped his phaser again, similar to how he had not half an hour before when he had defended Uhura's desperate flight to the Enterprise. Fully intending to release all hell on the soldiers despite being trapped beneath a support beam, Kirk carefully took aim at the closest one when—

--another of the Maridian soldiers stepped around Kirk's minimal shelter and came to face him. For a split second they simply stared at each other, masked soldier to beaten captain, until Kirk's common sense kicked in and he swung his phaser around to face his new opponent and fired rapidly.

Or tried to. The firearm first clicked and whirred in his hand, fizzled a little, then died completely making a cheerless little sound akin to the exhausted sigh of an old man. Kirk stayed frozen there as the full implications of this small sad noise sunk in.

"Oh, shit."


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's note—Good Lord, this chapter took me freaking forever to write. Sorry for the hiatus. I was having my brains beaten out by the start of school… Annnnd this chapter's a lot longer than previous ones. I have a special request for this chapter though—could you guys please critique my Spock? While he is my favorite character, I found him really hard to write. What I want to know is what you guys think of him :) As always, thanks so much for reading, reviewing, story alerting, and all the other shenanigans available out there—you guys are awesome, and I truly appreciate it from the bottom of my heart. Anyway I hope you like! Next chapter should be up next week (with a bit of luck)… _

**Chapter 3**

Spock did not panic. The Vulcans trained since birth for ways to suppress such illogical emotions that could only cloud judgment and hurt those around them. Thus, Spock remained calm. He took his phaser mechanically in his hand and fired at the enemy, one after another, taking them down with deadly precision. Out of the corners of his eyes he could see the rest of his team stationed around him, phasers also out, ducking and diving and shooting in turn.

And yet two of the members of the team remained missing. Nyota Uhura and James Kirk had not returned since they had been forced to part nearly two point three hours ago. Spock closed his eyes and momentarily saw with surprising clarity the crumbled and caved in wall that had separated him from the Captain and the Lieutenant. They had arranged to meet at an alternate point as soon as possible, but they had not yet appeared and neither of them had responded to his attempts at communication with them. He fought a creeping sensation in his throat unsuccessfully as he ducked down behind layers of rubble and stone, dodging a particularly well-aimed phaser shot from a masked Maridian soldier. Spock struggled with himself to place the feeling that tasted like bile in his mouth—but if he was completely honest with himself he already knew what it was to the bottom of his core. Of course, feelings such of this were illogical, he told himself. Like panic, distress and worry only served to deepen compulsive actions, which could only lead to destruction and hurt. Logic dictated that he complete the task at hand and focus on actively searching for the missing team members when he had the chance to do so.

And so Spock dodged behind half-crumbled pillars and aged stone walls and fought. He did not hail the Enterprise. He did not give the order to retreat. He did not move to the point where it was safe to transport off the Maridian home world. Not yet. Not until he could be certain.

A strangled cry issued from his right and he turned to see Ensign Bowman, her face frozen into an expression of eternal surprise, fall as if in slow motion--shot in the chest by a phaser set to kill. From his left, Lieutenant Terrian let out a gasp of shock as he saw his crewmate collapse. Spock's darkened gaze lingered on the fallen Ensign for a moment before he returned to his task of robotically firing upon the enemy force. She was dead. He could not help the Ensign now.

Terrian slid down the wall next to Spock in exhaustion. "Commander," he wheezed, "Commander, w—we can't hold them any longer—we have to get back to the Enterprise." Terrian practically sobbed. "En-ensign Bowman—Crewman Olson—we're the only two left—we have to get outta here."

"Your opinion is noted, Lieutenant," Spock replied aiming his phaser at yet another enemy soldier. The Vulcan, however, remained stationary, clearly without any intent of moving from his position.

Perhaps Terrian picked up on this fact because he appealed to Spock yet again. "Commander—please—_please—_we can't hold them any longer. We have to fall back to the drop point. The Captain will find us—he always does."

Spock pulled back behind his rudimentary fortress, dodging yet another phaser blast. When he spoke, he spoke to his phaser instead of addressing Terrian. "That is not a logical assessment, Lieutenant. It is impossible to say whether or not the Captain will 'always' find his team or otherwise. Furthermore, it is illogical to forgo our current position. If we do not hold the Maridians at bay and instead leave, we are in effect sacrificing the Captain and the Lieutenant. Without our presence at this point, the Captain and Lieutenant would be trapped—I believe the Earth term is 'behind enemy lines.'" Spock glanced out at the dusty hallway before him before taking a perfectly aimed shot at a partially concealed soldier. Dropping below the barrier once again, Spock addressed Terrian once again. "I would _suggest_," Spock put the slightest emphasis on the word, "that you continue to do your duty to your ship and assist me in this battle."

Something about Spock's steadiness must have braced Terrian as well, because he sat up straighter, and while his face was pale, he held his phaser with determination. Spock, however, did not feel steady despite his outward appearance. He found himself glancing over his shoulder down the corridor behind them every few moments. It stood perpendicular to the hallway that they now defended and it should have been the route Jim and Nyota had taken out of the innermost workings of the breached Shenkaran base. But neither of the officers had yet appeared. And if they did not appear soon, Spock would be forced to admit that Lieutenant Terrian's suggestion held some merit.

But as soon as Spock thought this, a distant shape appeared down the corridor. Dust and smoke partially obscured the figure, but Spock could make out her form (for it was most definitely female). Tall and slender, the shape ran at an awkward gait, her figure slightly stooped—as if she were exhausted. All the same, an emotion that he could not quite place crept through Spock's limbs and he almost went limp with it as he traced her progress up the passage.

Nyota. The figure was Nyota.

But only Nyota. No tall, yellow-shirted figure followed hers. The limp feeling in his arms and legs replaced itself instantly with tension once again. The captain had not returned with the Lieutenant. Spock quickly ran through all the possible scenarios where the captain would be forced to part with Nyota and found the results displeasing. Of course the most logical deduction was that Jim was—but Spock did not wish to come to a conclusion before he knew the facts. Instead, he swiftly ordered Terrian to hold his current position and defend the intersection while Spock retrieved the lieutenant. Terrian nodded, wiping a thin sheen of sweat off his face, which was, if possible, even paler than before. Spock retreated up the corridor through the unsettled dust, stepping over shattered and crumbled debris reaching Nyota just as she fell forward in exhaustion. He caught her and set her upright once again, keeping a steadying hand on her arm as she swayed slightly against him. His eyes swept her form, searching for any sign of physical injury, but when he found none, he turned his attention to her face. She met his gaze, an incomprehensible combination of horror, sadness, and guilt playing about her features.

"Nyota," he began quietly, "Where is the Captain?"

She stared at him hopelessly, and in that moment an understanding passed between them without her having said a word, without her even needing to open her mouth; the captain would never return to the Enterprise again.

Spock stood where he was, still holding on to Nyota's shoulders and felt as if he had been frozen to the spot. Jim could not be gone. The Captain was a number of strange and extraordinary things, but he also had an inexplicable ability to beat the odds, whatever the odds might be. The idea that Jim had lost, finally, after three years of unpredictable success was simply unfathomable to him—as was the fact that he would never see his greatest friend ever again. He and Nyota stared at each other, seeing but not seeing, wrapped in a torrent of shock and the pain of loss. Breaking off her gaze after a long moment, Nyota looked down at a small data disc held tightly in her hand. "We have to get back to the ship," she finally whispered. Under Spock's hand, her arm trembled the barest amount.

Spock paused, staring at the object in Nyota's palm as it glinted innocently in the dim lighting. "Very well," he said after a moment, brain snapping back to full-on Vulcan mode. He pulled her around and half carried her back up the corridor to where Terrian crouched waiting. Addressing him, Spock said, "We must leave, Lieutenant. Fall back to the drop point immediately. I will bring up the rear."

Lieutenant Terrian stared between Nyota and Spock for a split second before dropping his gaze and uttering a terse, "Aye, Sir." Taking a deep breath he plunged out from behind the wall, forging a halting path to the spot some fifty meters up the hallway to the opening where the Enterprise's transporters could reach them at long last. Nyota followed close behind, and Spock crept behind, walking backwards with agility only a Vulcan could achieve. The Maridian troops had finally thinned out to a mere few resisting the away team's flight to the outside world, but Spock did not take the threat lightly. He covered the remaining Maridians precisely and accurately, eyes darting from location to location, shooting mere seconds before he or the rest of his team lost their lives from enemy fire.

And slowly, painfully slowly, they made their way up the corridor--a broken trio. Only half of the group that had originally come down to the surface remained. Terrian, Uhura, and Spock dodged their way through the smoke infested corridor and finally, _finally _up through the half-caved in portal to the outside world. Sunlight blinded them as they broke through to the surface, gasping for breath, but Spock did not waste any time as he pulled out his communicator and hailed the Enterprise.

"Mr. Scott, three to beam up," he ordered. He glanced over at Nyota and Terrian's bent over forms. "Please send a medical team to meet us as well."

"You bet yer ass, Commander!" came the immediate reply, "I've gotcha. Don't move an inch. Locking on and---"

The familiar swirls of bright energy circled around their three crouched forms, crackling and popping until—a moment later, Spock once again recognized the familiar surroundings of the transporter bay. He had barely rematerialized when he stepped quickly off his receiving pad to Nyota's in order to assist her, but he found that she was steady enough to no longer need his help. Something in him compelled him to remain close to her all the same. Her presence made him feel steadier.

Spock did not pay any mind to Lieutenant Terrian, who had stumbled off the receiving pad as quick as humanly possible and into the arms of the waiting medical staff. They bundled the battered lieutenant off immediately, but a lone figure remained at the doorway, broken off from the group. Doctor McCoy made his way back to the pad, an expression of extreme worry already clouding his craggy face, but as he opened his mouth to speak, Engineer Scott broke in from behind his console.

"Commander! Where's Jimmy got off to, then? I couldnae read any signals other than the three of you. Where's the rest of th' away team, eh? What happened down there?"

Nyota and Spock shared a long look in which both the doctor and chief engineer tensed. The scene had momentarily frozen, Nyota and Spock together on the transporter pad, McCoy and Scott apart on the steps below in some sad parody of statues in ancient Rome.

Spock turned away from Nyota abruptly to face McCoy and Scott's anxious gaze. He considered the two before him, searching for the words that normally came so easily to him. He stated the facts always searching for absolute truth and logic--so why did he find it so hard to face his crewmembers now? Internally he endeavored to detach himself emotionally, preparing himself for the task ahead.

"The Captain—" Spock stopped, looked down then tried again. "The Captain will not be with us any longer," he finished in barely more than a murmur. Beside him, Nyota's hand slid through the crook of his arm. "As for Ensign Bowman and Crewman Olson—they have perished as well."

McCoy stared as if transfixed, his frantic gaze sliding from Spock to Nyota and back again as if looking for any evidence that what Spock had said was some sort of cruel joke. He advanced on Spock as a man in a trance. "It's not true," he whispered hoarsely, "It can't be true."

Spock opened his mouth to answer but found that it had gone dry. He tried again, but it was Nyota who answered McCoy's desperate request. Next to Spock, her body shook.

"It's—it's true, Leonard," She faltered, "I—he was trapped. I couldn't do anything—he told me to go—and I—Leonard, I didn't want to, you have to believe me, I didn't—but I couldn't—I couldn't do anything—" Nyota looked beseechingly at the doctor, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. McCoy didn't say anything but stared at her, his face ashen.

Spock turned to her, holding her elbow. "Lieutenant, I think you should accompany the doctor to sick bay. He will attend to you. You are distressed and in need of rest. I shall carry on to the bridge—I am needed there." Spock turned to lead her down the steps to the doctor, but stopped, surprised as Nyota resisted his gentle pull. He looked at her, a faint question in his eyes.

"No." She pulled back her arm from his grasp, "No, Spock, I'm going to the bridge with you."

"Lieutenant," Spock said, "I do not think it would be wise—"

But Nyota cut him off. "No, Spock," she said, her voice growing firm, "I'm not going to sick bay—I'm going to the bridge and don't you even _think_ of trying to stop me. Jim—Jim died trying to save those people down there and I'll be _damned _before I let his death have gone to waste. Now, come on. Those people need us. And you need me on the bridge. And don't you tell me I'm emotionally compromised or any of that crap—we're all just as compromised and don't you try and deny it." She glared at Spock fiercely as if daring him to argue.

Spock merely quirked an eyebrow, considering her. "Very well, Nyota," he said after a moment, "I was simply attempting to look after your well-being, but if you wish it, I will not insist that you accompany the doctor… And I admit that I myself would feel more at ease if you would lend your expertise to the bridge as well."

"Good," Nyota clipped, brushing past him as she stepped down from the platform and making her way towards the door. Spock followed her retreating form, pausing at the door only to address Doctor McCoy who stood with his face in his hand, and the frozen Chief Engineer Scott, who sat at the console completely at a loss.

"Doctor McCoy, Lieutenant Commander Scott," Spock began, "I request that you attend me to the bridge as well as I would like your input on the situation at hand."

McCoy and Scott looked at each other then wordlessly followed Spock from the room.

In the hallway, none of them spoke to each other but were left to their own thoughts as they strode purposefully to the bridge. Images and memories battered Spock's consciousness as he remembered the events of the last few hours—hours that felt as if they had taken days to complete. They had arrived at the planet Maridia precisely four point two hours ago in response to a distress call from a race that named itself Shenkaran. The transmission itself—while jumbled and imprecise—painted a gruesome picture for all who heard it. The race claimed to be victim of a mass genocide campaign. It described whole towns and villages wiped out by a toxic gas. It described cruel and painful death. It described families ripped apart and killed one by one. And Spock had been reminded of the death of his own homeworld—the devastation of the Vulcans ever present in his thoughts. Of course, the Enterprise had responded straight away arriving as quickly as possible. But upon arrival they had been received by a fleet of Maridian ships who informed them that they had no knowledge of any distress call and there was absolutely no problems on the surface, so thank you and goodbye.

But Jim, behaving in typical Jim fashion, had—to quote—"a very bad feeling about the slimy bastards." Upon further examination, they found Maridia was on the brink of becoming a Federation planet—they had only to pass an inspection scheduled for six months from now. As an alliance, the agreement would be on the surface quite logical. The Maridians had advanced technology that could revolutionize medical technology throughout the Federation, and Maridia would benefit from admission to the Federation through increased trade and a guarantee of lasting peace. But to become a Federation planet, the planet in question had to prove that it was completely peaceful itself. This distress call issued from their own home soil put all of their efforts in suspicion.

But the Captain, who usually preferred head on confrontations, uncharacteristically opted for heeding the Maridian government's request. Spock had, of course, questioned the order.

"Captain," his own voice echoed at him, as a long distant memory, "It would be wise to investigate the distress call's claim closer."

And Jim's reply came back to him, clear as if Jim had just said it cockily standing in front of him, "That's what I'm doing, Spock."

"Indeed, Captain, it would appear that you are flying away from the planet as opposed to analyzing it further."

At this point Jim had pressed him to "just wait" and Spock watched as Jim's plan unfolded. They were to take refuge behind a small moon in the same system where they would be shielded from the Maridian sensors. With a little help from Mr. Scott, they were soon able to beam down to the surface of the planet to the source out of which the distress call had been transmitted.

But when they had beamed down to the covert Shenkaran base, they had found utter destruction. Apparently the Maridian government had traced the distress call to the location of the base and had moved in to raze it to the ground—for the Maridians seemed bent on the complete purging of the entire Shenkaran race. The away team had raced through the halls of the half ruined base searching desperately for survivors and fighting off the Maridians who likewise searched for survivors—only to kill them brutally when they found them.

And then the worst had come when the tunnel before them en route to their escape had caved in due to a particularly heavy assault on the base by Maridian artillery—separating Jim and Nyota from the rest of the away team. And it had resulted in Jim's death.

Suddenly Spock was overwhelmed with a pain that pierced him like physical knives—pain at the death of his friend. It surged over him in waves so strong that he almost could not keep walking. It was such an illogical—such a harsh and raw emotion—that it took Spock completely aback. For a few moments, he lost himself completely in the feeling—before coming to an abrupt decision with himself. He could not change the past. He could not bring Jim back. He was now Captain of the Enterprise and he would do his duty to protect the innocent now dying in droves on the planet's surface. A time for mourning the death of his friend would come. But it would not be today. Today called for action.

Spock came to this conclusion precisely as he stepped onto the bridge, closely followed by his three companions.

"Mr. Chekov," he said, "Report."

Chekov turned immediately in his chair at his station at tactical, his curly brown hair flopping a bit in his haste to follow the command. "Commander, it appears zat ze Maridian fleet has not yet detected us. Zey have not yet been alerted to our position."

"Thank you, Ensign," Spock continued, standing in his usual position beside the captain's chair. He did not, however, sit down. "We will hold our position for the time being. Now, if you'll open a channel to the entire crew, I would like to speak with them."

Chekov shot him a questioning look, but only replied with a quick "Aye, Sir," before completing the task.

Spock looked around the bridge taking in every face, from McCoy's confused anger, to Chekov's faint trepidation, to Scotty's abject sadness, and finally settling on Nyota's hard blazing determination. She nodded to him. He turned sharply, hands behind back, feet shoulder width apart and addressed his crew. "Crewmembers of the Enterprise," he began, "I speak to you today as Captain. James T. Kirk has passed away on the surface of the planet Maridia. He died in the line of duty, fighting to protect refugees from the brutality of the Maridian government. Our mission is to continue what we started—to save the Shenkarans from a most certain ethnic cleanse of their entire race. Please report to battle stations and remain there until further commanded. Spock out."

The bridge met this statement with silence. All had turned to stare at Spock, but he remained immobile, quietly contemplating the floor in front of him. McCoy had his face in his hands again.

Chekov first broke the silence. "Ze—ze Keptin is dead, sir?" He said it as if his world had crumbled around him. The Ensign, Spock noted, had always been quite attached to Jim—even looked up to him.

"Indeed, Mr. Chekov," Spock replied, "We must, however, endeavor to look beyond this loss in favor of saving a race that is on the brink of destruction. Lieutenant Uhura—if I may ask, what is it that you and the Captain found on the data disc you recovered?"

Nyota held up the disc in her hand.

Proof," she said simply. "These are records—the Maridians kept _records_ of their institutional murder. It's bio-warfare. And they've been experimenting on people for years, Spock, _years_ working to… _perfect_ their methods." Nyota's mouth twisted around the word in a disgusted grimace, "They're systematically killing off a fellow race—they're committing mass murder against the Shenkarans and no one—_no one—_on the entire planet is doing anything about it… This disc," she paused, "this disc will show everyone exactly what the Maridians are capable of—and it'll show the Federation that these people don't deserve to join—I don't care what kind of resources they have down there."

Spock tilted his head slightly. "Then I believe our first issue of business should be to alert the Federation of these occurrences. Lieutenant, please transmit the data to Starfleet command immediately."

"Aye, Sir," Nyota replied, swiveling in her chair to face her station.

Spock turned his attention once again to the rest of the bridge crew. "We must now consider our options. This race, the Shenkarans, need our assistance as soon as we are able to give it. It would appear, however, that the Maridians will be less than helpful to our cause. This is not to say we should rule out a diplomatic approach—but that we should act swiftly to ensure--"

He got no further as Nyota turned to him again and said sharply, "Sir, I can't transmit the data—there's some sort of interference coming from Maridia itself—I can't do it, sir—"

And suddenly all hell broke loose. Alarms blared across the bridge, and Mr. Sulu shouted as he keyed commands on the helm, "Sir, I'm picking up three Maridian warships coming at us fast—they came outta nowhere, sir, they just appeared!"

Almost simultaneously, Chekov called out, "They're locking weapons on us, Keptin!"

Spock stepped forward. "Shields up, Mr. Sulu," he commanded, "Ready battle stations and arm phasers—"

The bridge rocked as the first of many torpedoes hit the hull, throwing crewmembers to the ground. Spock recovered his balance the quickest. "Mr. Sulu—defense pattern Alpha," he ordered. Sulu complied immediately, but not before another blast shook the ship. Spock turned to see that both McCoy and Scotty had left for Medical and Engineering respectively at the first sign of trouble—but at this rate, they would not reach their stations before the ship was torn apart.

"Arm torpedoes and fire at will, Ensign Chekov!" Spock called.

"Aye, Sir!" the Ensign yelled in reply, not even looking up from his console.

"Shields at 50 percent and dropping," came a shout, "49… 46… 40 percent and dropping!"

The Enterprise, the pride of Starfleet, flew and spun and danced in space, firing and shooting barrages of phasers and torpedoes in turn, but it was no match for three fully armed Maridian battleships. Soon, Scotty's scream from Engineering reached the bridge through the comm. link, "Warp engines offline, Cap'n!"

Spock remained where he was, brought back for a second to the time when he had programmed the Kobyashi Maru and lectured one James Kirk on the possibility of a no-win scenario. Jim had not believed in them. He had always found a way to beat the odds. _Perhaps_, Spock thought, _there is some hope yet_.

But as soon as he had thought this, an odd sort of deadened silence settled across the bridge.

"They've stopped firing at us!" a distracted crewmember yelled.

Then Nyota's voice cut across the lull, quiet but clear, "Sir, they're hailing us."

Spock glanced at her briefly. "On screen," he said.

The face of a Maridian general appeared on the view screen, humanoid in form, skin of deep blue and characteristic ridges down the bridge of his nose. He had a shaggy mane of grizzled gray hair that he kept in a semi-neat ponytail at the base of his neck and his stubbled face was craggy and long. When he spoke, however, his voice was even and almost pleasant.

"Greetings, Enterprise," he said, "Welcome to Maridia."


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note—First of all, let me just say I am so sorry this took so long to put up. I hope y'all are still interested! Meant to get this up over two weeks ago (over a month ago, really…), but I reread it again right before posting and decided it was in need of a massive rewrite… and then I was attacked by a massive bout of writers' block. So sorry—I've been overwhelmed with the amount of interest in this story—you guys are great and I'm so thankful that you're interested in this—so sorry keep y'all waiting with my very, VERY long bouts of not publishing…_

_PS—if you listen to music while you read, you should start out with Spoon's "Got Nuffin." Kicks ass. Also very Kirk._

_A short warning: this chapter contains a brief description of genocide. Chapters will be darker from here on out—I'm considering changing the rating to M, but we'll wait on it for now._

_Thanks again for reading (honestly, can't thank y'all enough)—please review._

_Disclaimer--I don't own Star Trek, or Jim Kirk...  
_

**Chapter 4**

Time had slowed down for Kirk to incomprehensible crawl. His phaser had malfunctioned, and he sat there, helpless, pointing the useless weapon stupidly at his adversary and completely at a loss for how he should act next.

Kirk hated feeling helpless.

Luckily the Maridian soldiers still seemed too shocked to know what to do so Kirk had a small window in which to act. Unluckily, there was nothing he _could_ do. The main soldier, the first one who had discovered him made to step towards him and Kirk, who could think of nothing else to do to defend himself, flung the faulty phaser at the man's head—slightly desperately—with his full strength.

The man simply caught it one handed and dropped it harmlessly on the floor once more and continued on his original path as if nothing had happened. Kirk swore internally.

Kirk watched the man calculatingly as he stepped deliberately closer to the place where Kirk lay. With a flick of one of his gloved hands, he motioned for his cronies to step forward. Instantaneously, two of them materialized at Kirk's sides and grasped his arms roughly while another three positioned themselves around the pillar and proceeded to roll it off Kirk's recently healed legs. It weighed heavily against his shins and he had to suppress a grunt of pain as it grated over his feet.

The men who held his arms hoisted him bodily off the floor and Kirk resisted as much as he could, but he recognized a lost cause when he saw one. There was simply no way that he would be able to fight them off just now—not when he had guards surrounding him, all on red alert for any sign of trouble. Now was the time to wait for an opportunity. Anything else would simply get him injured again. So he hung between the two guards, trying to test the strength of his legs as discreetly as possible.

The masked commanding officer considered him for a second, his head slightly cocked and Kirk had the impression he was being sized up. Apparently he had been deemed satisfactory, because his captor's stance shifted and he cleared his throat to speak.

"So," he said, and the translator that Uhura had equipped him with crackled uncomfortably in Kirk's ear, "You are a Starfleet officer, no?"

Kirk nodded curtly. Apparently they needed confirmation of this fact, seeing as the uniform spoke for itself, Kirk thought wryly.

"Well, then," the man growled. He had a raspy voice that grated on Kirk's ears when he spoke. He flipped the communicator on his wrist and spoke rapidly into it words that Kirk could not immediately understand. The voice that answered came back just as rapidly, and though Kirk strained to hear, he could not make out the response.

The short conference only lasted a matter of seconds before the commanding officer flipped the communicator shut and jerked his head in Kirk's direction. "Take him to the testing facility," he said ominously, "This man will be useful yet—we have yet to test our methods on humans." Kirk had the distinct feeling that behind the mask, the man was grinning cruelly. The two guards on his left and right jerked him forcefully, and he tried to twist in order to protest only to have them wrench him around again. His newly healed legs twinged painfully and he barely suppressed a cry of pain when—

The world around him exploded. He felt himself thrown forward and rock and stone flew everywhere. He did not know what had happened—he couldn't tell what was going on, let alone which way was up. He smashed into the ground hard and his cranium cracked on a loose rock as more stone rained down on them all from an unknown source.

Coughing wildly, Kirk glanced around from his position on the ground, his eyes watering heavily from the dust that had accumulated in the air and his head buzzing from the hit to his skull. The two guards who had held him only moments ago were unconscious beside him, their arms and legs thrown out at odd angles and masks half-torn to reveal the blue faces underneath.

Blinking through the haze, he saw that the wall behind them had been blown entirely apart. Bits of piping and stone hung jaggedly out of it creating a strangely misshapen hole where the blast must have originated. Standing in the recently created hole, weirdly framed and eerily distorted by the dust, were two new shapes that Kirk did not recognize. He squinted at them fuzzily, trying to distinguish their forms out of the chaos. One of them was male—he was sure of it—for he was tall with shoulders broader than even Kirk's, but the other had to have been female. She stood a head shorter than her companion out of the mist, but she was still tall as far as Kirk could tell and quite slender. They did not wear masks. _Not soldiers,_ Kirk woozily observed through his clouded brain, _they're not soldiers._

This all happened in a matter of a few confusing seconds before the newcomers, who seemed just as shocked as those on the other side of the wall, burst through the opening before the fallen Maridians could regain themselves. They were both armed with phasers and they had begun to fire the weapons, but it was quite clear that they had no experience or idea how to use them. Their shots clumsily fried spots on the ground and blew apart bits of the wall, but came nowhere near actually damaging the enemy soldiers. When the woman managed to hit one unfortunate Maridian soldier, Kirk was quite certain that she had been meaning to hit the man five feet to his left. Kirk stayed down, hands protecting his head, afraid that if he stood up and tried to help, he would only be shot down by a stray blast from the pair now charging across the room.

It was only when Kirk saw that ten feet to his immediate right, a Maridian soldier had finally picked himself up from the debris and now pointed a well-aimed phaser directly at the woman's back, that Kirk sprang into action. Scrabbling to his feet and sliding slightly on the displaced bits of wall, he charged at the Maridian with a cry like a bull and rammed him full on in the side with a lowered shoulder. The soldier fell as if in slow motion, his masked head smacking with a sickening crunch onto a loose stone and he stirred no more.

Seeing the fallen soldier's phaser on the ground, Kirk quickly moved to retrieve it only to have it smacked away again by a well-placed kick from a swinging leg that came out of nowhere. Kirk barely had time to register the new massive body now attacking him when it hit him in the face with a quick strike from an elbow. Kirk felt his nose snap as he fell back onto the ground, blood pouring out of both nostrils. But he barely had time to lament this when the Maridian bore down upon him once more, striding toward him with a murderous edge to his step. Kirk scrambled backwards, struggling to get his bearings but the soldier did not slow. Waiting until the last possible instant, Kirk kicked out with both legs, striking the man's kneecaps hard. The soldier crumpled, but Kirk did not wait for him to recover. Choking on the blood coating his mouth, Kirk rolled over onto his knees, scrambling toward the fallen phaser.

His hands closed around the handle and he swung it around just as the Maridian, who had recovered much faster than Kirk would have thought possible, kicked him hard in the ribs with a heavily booted foot.

All the breath whooshed out of his lungs and lights popped in front of his vision as he rolled to the side, but he maintained a hold on the phaser in his hand just barely, his one hope of survival against the massive soldier. Gasping painfully for air he locked the phaser on the kill setting and swung it around in one movement to fire blindly upwards. He prayed to God that his aim was good as he could not see through the haze of pain still clouding his brain.

But the blast found its mark. The Maridian looked down as if in surprise at his chest, a gaping wound steadily spreading a dark stain through his dark clothes radiating from the dead center. He touched it lightly, and let out one last dying gasp before falling to the side.

Still choking for air, Kirk sat gasping for a few seconds, phaser still frozen where he had pointed it. He blinked hard trying to clear his vision and his thoughts at the same time and gingerly felt the place where the soldier had kicked him in the ribs, sure that he had once again broken the recently healed bones.

But he could not stay in that position for long. Gazing across the room, he saw that the man and woman had somehow miraculously survived and were now bent over a console protruding from the wall at the other end. They both crouched behind the minimal protection of a collapsed pillar, the woman attempting to cover for her friend, but she was clearly struggling and her shots had a slightly desperate feeling to them as if she were simply firing at random, hoping that the very improbability of the attack would be enough to fend off the Maridians. It seemed pure luck that she and her companion still survived as a company of five or so Maridian soldiers still fired at her and the her friend. Each shot seemed to just barely miss them.

Kirk decided he could not wait any longer. These two, whoever they were, had saved his life—however unintentionally—and he could only hope that he could return the favor. They were clearly on some kind of mission—a foolish one at that, but they were clearly unequipped for it. They needed him. For they were clearly Shenkaran, and for them to be here, in their erstwhile base, in the midst of a siege, was nothing short of suicide.

Heaving one last deep breath, Kirk braced himself and darted out into the main space of the room. Mercifully, the five soldiers left who had not been either taken out by original blast, Kirk himself, or the randomly fired phaser shots paid no attention to him as they focused their entire energy at the two hiding behind the fallen pillar.

Wanting to avoid immediate detection, Kirk skirted the edge of the fight, darting from pillar to pillar and waiting to find a clear shot of the remaining Maridians before they captured or killed the two rebels at the console. He needed to get behind the soldiers without them noticing; he crept ever forward and trying to get a clear shot of the origins of the phaser fire that threatened his newfound friends. Glancing out from behind a pillar, he gripped his phaser doggedly in both hands and took aim at the backs of the soldiers now directly in front of him.

He quickly took out three of the five soldiers before they realized the source of the attack. Ducking behind the pillar once again, he heard the crack as a blast of phaser fire hit the other side of it, shattering a chunk of it to the floor. More blasts of light sailed past his hiding place, but from his position, the Maridians could not get a clear shot at him, just as he could not fire at them without exposure.

Kirk glanced out again from behind his hiding place only to have another barrage of phaser fire greet him. He stepped back just as a well-aimed shot nearly singed the hair off the top of his head.

Crouching down, Kirk thought hard. He needed to get farther around the enclosure in order to get a clean shot at the remaining two soldiers without endangering the two behind the console. There was nothing else for it; he was going to have to move.

Before he could pause to think about it any longer, he moved fluidly out from behind the pillar, bolting to the next and firing opportunistically whenever he could. He had little confidence that his shots would actually find their mark as the Maridians were positioned among the pillars but it did no harm to try—or at least intimidate them a bit.

Slipping behind another pillar, he slid a little on a loose bit of rock and a sudden inspiration hit him. It was a rudimentary idea—quite amateur actually—but it had a chance of working—_if_ the Maridian soldiers were slow on the uptake and _if_ he was quick on his feet.

Taking the bit of rock in his hand, he tossed it in the direction he had just come from and it clattered across the dirty tiles. Flinging himself out from behind his pillar he saw that—as he had intended—the Maridians both had their attention trained on the spot he had thrown the rock. They didn't have time to raise their weapons as Kirk took them out one after the other.

Finally free of the Maridian threat, he ducked out from behind the pillars at last, determined once and for all to meet the people who had saved him from certain torture at the hands of his captors. The woman still held the phaser pointed at him with clearly shaking hands and the man at the console had paused in his work to stare at Kirk avidly.

Kirk approached slowly, stuffing the phaser in his belt and holding his hands out to show that he meant them no harm. Two pairs of dark, glinting eyes observed his advance and he met their gaze levelly.

"It's okay," he called out in Standard, hoping they either understood or had a translator on them. He wasn't sure they could've understood him even if they _did_ speak Standard as the continued flow of blood from his nose blocked any attempt to talk properly, "It's fide… I'b dot godda hurt you, I swear—I just wadda help, that's all. I'b a friend…just a friend."

The pair glanced at each other and then back at him, and slowly, very slowly, the woman lowered the phaser. She stood up in full and Kirk saw her clearly for the first time, not surrounded by smoke or dust or half-concealed behind a pillar, and he saw that she was… stunning. She had deep blue skin—just a shade darker than the Maridian tone—and light ridges down her nose that were now familiar to him, but what struck him most were her dark, intelligent beetle-black eyes shining out of wide set sockets. Her thin face was framed by a mass of short-cropped curly black hair. A heavy brown coat swathed her thin form and she wore a pair of thick, black boots to match her partner's who, Kirk saw, had gone back to the console without another look.

He had stopped pacing forward without really realizing it, and they stood there, ten feet apart from each other, sizing each other up while the man worked on his unknown project.

Finally the woman spoke. "I am not going to shoot you, if that is what you are afraid of," she said in broken Standard, a single eyebrow quirked and a small smile playing about her lips. "In any case, I doubt I could hit you even if I wanted to."

Kirk blinked. He allowed a half-smile to crack the blood caked around his mouth before remembering with a pang that his throbbing face did not appreciate smiling in the least bit. He winced and let the smile fade, realizing as he did he probably looked a horrible mess. He mentally categorized his broken nose, the congealed blood coating his face and hair and of course the shirt that was now more dark red than yellow, and he was sure that the blow to his head he had received as a result of the explosion had given him a mild concussion. It was probably not the most _diplomatic _first impression, Kirk mused, but when had he ever really been that diplomatic?

The woman addressed him again before he had the chance to speak. "I believe we—my brother and I—owe you our gratitude," she said, gesturing to the bent form behind her, "We would undoubtedly be dead by now if it were not for you. Thank you." Her voice had lost its faint trace of humor and had gone low with the depth of emotion present in her short speech.

"Uh," Kirk began, eloquent as usual, "Yeah—yeah, no problem." He was finding it hard to assemble his thoughts as the throbbing of his nose redoubled and his broken rib shifted uncomfortably. "Look," he said, wincing through the pain, "You're Shenkaran, right? I'm Captain James T. Kirk of the starship Enterprise—I'm—" He was finding it difficult to speak with his mouth still clogged, "I'm here to help you—" He paused and spat blood but before he could continue, the woman was there, at his side.

"Come here," she said, gripping his elbow, "We can help you with that."

Slightly confused, he let himself be led to the console. The events of the past half hour seemed to have been finally catching up to him. His head throbbed and every time he moved his torso even the slightest bit, a shooting pain shocked his entire body. "I think there's something here that can help me," he said thickly, remembering the technology that had saved his life earlier, "Little blue lights—like little bugs or something. They healed me. Wouldn't be alive right now if it weren't for them."

"That's right," the woman said soothingly, "Nanodroids. That is what we are here to find."

"Nano-_what?_" Kirk said as he allowed himself to be eased down the wall by the console where the man worked.

"Nanodroids," the woman explained, kneeling down beside him, "Shenkaran medical technology. They are… I cannot remember the word… _robots_ I suppose. They are miniature drones programmed to search and find all injured and repair all damage wherever they find it, regardless of race, gender, or age. We placed them in the walls throughout the base so in the event of an emergency, we would have easy access to at least peripheral medical help." She stared around the half-destroyed room sadly, taking in the lifeless bodies of several Shenkaran rebels. "But I do not think they ended up being much help at all." She sighed and continued, "They will, however, be able to help you."

"It will only be a moment more," the man said, speaking for the first time over his shoulder, "One of our shots hit the console—that is why we could not immediately access them…"

As the man's voice trailed off, Kirk allowed his vision to fuzz before him for a few moments, only vaguely aware of the woman to his right and the man crouched to his left. He was only just starting to allow his eyes to slide closed when the man let out a whoop of raucous laughter.

"I have it!" he shouted. Kirk snapped his eyes open in time to see the man take out a jar and scoop a glowing handful of the nanodroids into it. "Here," he said, holding out a smaller handful of the robots in front of Kirk's nose. Immediately, they swarmed Kirk's head and torso and yet again, he felt his injuries miraculously healing themselves for the second time in an hour. His nose slid back into place with a sickening pop and his breathing suddenly became much easier as his broken rib molded back into place.

"Woah," he groaned, clutching his head as the nanodroids swarmed back to the man's hand and he stuffed them into the jar. "I've gotta get my hands on some of those," Kirk remarked, thinking that Bones would never have to hypo him again.

The man only chuckled grimly. "I would not plan on using them on a regular basis. The system is not without its flaws."

"What flaws?" Kirk asked, his eyebrows contracting. If these nanodroids had just given him some sort of space virus, he'd never hear the end of it from McCoy—if, that is, he survived to return to the Enterprise in the first place.

"Do not look so concerned," the man said, still smiling darkly, "It is only that—" he hesitated, "With each successive healing, the quality of the reparation degrades. It is as if they—the nanodroids—remember you… They seem to recognize you as injured always—and thus you do not need fixing, as it must be your permanent state to be injured. It is their one glitch—that and they can only cure physical injuries. So, if you are poisoned…" he let the implication hang in the air ominously.

Kirk raised his eyebrows. "Great," he said, a touch of sarcasm gracing his tone. Still, the nanodroids had made his life considerably easier in the last hour, and for that he was overwhelmingly grateful. Heaving a great sigh, he sat up straighter against the wall and eyed his two saviors. "Look," he continued, "I don't mean to be rude—but who _are_ you?"

The woman looked at him in surprise as if realizing for the first time that she had never introduced herself. "I am Kaitsumi, and this is my brother, Liam," she said, "We are part of the Shenkaran resistance. Our father—" she hesitated for a beat before continuing, "Our father was the chief ambassador to Maridia."

Kirk lifted his head in understanding. He recognized the pointed use of the word _was_ in her last sentence. "I'm sorry," he said sincerely, trying to put a lot of unsaid emotion into the simple statement. He knew what it was to be without a parent.

The woman—Kaitsumi—only smiled a sad half-smile. "It was over a year ago," she said quietly, trying to brush it off, but Kirk did not miss how her glinting eyes had suddenly become over bright. Sniffing slightly, she glanced at her brother and continued. "We came here because when we evacuated the base, we lost our medical transport—we had nothing. Liam and I—we decided we had to come back."

"And that brings you here," Kirk finished for her, nodding. "Well—listen, I can help you. No offense or anything, but you guys are not soldiers. I can get you out of here and back to—wherever you're headed if you need defense. But I need to get into contact with my ship—the Enterprise. Do you have any way to communicate at your base? Anything at all?"

Kaitsumi and Liam looked at each other. "All communications out into space can be tracked—it is how they found this base," Liam explained slightly apologetically, "We thought we had manipulated the signal, but it was clearly not enough. If we attempt to communicate again, we would risk another exposure…"

"Well, what about here, then?" Kirk asked, insistent. "They already have control of this base, so it shouldn't be a danger."

Kaitsumi shook her head. "Once we sent our distress signal, they were able to hack in and cut communications. Nothing in or out."

Kirk swore under his breath. He was about to suggest something else, but he stopped dead, holding up his hand for silence. The three of them froze. For out of the silence, they could make out the sounds of shifting rock and the faint echo of an electronic murmur. More Maridians were coming.

It was Kaitsumi's turn to swear. "We have to move," she hissed, pulling herself up on the wall and taking the phaser out of its place in her pocket. "Come with us," she told Kirk, "Come with us and maybe we can help each other out."

Kirk nodded, his jaw set. He levered himself up as well, and to his left, Liam did the same. The man looked shaky and wide-eyed. He clutched his own phaser nervously and hesitantly held it out to Kirk. "Here," he said, "Take it. You know how to use it."

"No," said Kirk, pushing it firmly back into Liam's hands, "No, I got my own." He pulled it out of his belt and held it up for Liam to see.

"No," Liam protested in a low voice, "It is not that, it is just—I hate those things…"

Kirk looked at him sympathetically, but before he could say anything, Kaitsumi stepped forward and grabbed her brother's arm. "Liam," she said, her black eyes hard, "It is past time for hesitation. You must keep it—and use it. It is for your own good." The two of them stared at each other for a prolonged moment, until a particularly loud bang from the distantly shifting rocks caught their attention.

"We have to go," Kaitsumi said, releasing her brother and setting off in the opposite direction of the shifting rocks. Kirk shot Liam what he hoped was a consoling glance before urging him ahead.

"Go on," he said, pushing Liam forward, "I got the rear."

With that, the odd threesome skirted the edges of the great hall, Kaitsumi leading the way to a small doorway in the wall. She placed her hand on a scanner that had been half ripped out of its place, but it still worked enough to read her palm. The door slid open and they found themselves crowding into a narrow low-ceilinged passageway that did not even allow for two people to stand abreast.

Kirk watched warily as the door slid shut behind him and enclosed them all in darkness. Liam ran to catch up with Kaitsumi, and Kirk was not far behind.

"Kait," he heard Liam breathe, catching his sister on the arm, "Kait, you are not going toward the emergency exit—we have to go the other way."

"No," she said without breaking her stride, "We cannot go that way, Liam. They are watching it—you saw what they did to the medical transport."

"Then where are you taking us?" There was a hard edge to his voice as if he already suspected something and simply wanted Kaitsumi to say it for herself.

She stopped and turned to face him, her face half-hidden in the semi-darkness. "We could…" she hesitated, "We could leave through Yamoko's Field. Through the southwest gate. They would not expect to find us there."

Liam stood as if frozen. His face had gone several shades paler and he swallowed audibly. "We cannot go that way," he whispered.

"Liam," she stepped away from him, "We do not have a choice."

Kirk looked between the brother and sister, allowing a faint crease to form between his eyebrows. "What's in Yamoko's Field?" he asked.

The two of them looked at him and then back at each other. "Something…" Liam began but trailed off.

"We must leave," Kaitsumi cut across him and with that she turned once more and led the way up the half-destroyed corridor.

Liam did not move, and Kirk came up behind him and placed a hesitant hand on his shoulder. He jumped and looked around, but Kirk did not remove his hand from its place. "Liam," he said, "We gotta get out of here. We have to go."

Liam glanced at him nervously, but his hands tightened on the phaser and he started forward again. Relieved, Kirk followed, listening hard for any sounds of Maridian interference.

After fifteen minutes of following one cramped passage after another, he had long since lost himself in the shadowy labyrinth. He could only hope that Kaitsumi knew the base well enough to navigate it, because, he thought turning down a corridor that looked exactly the same as the one he had just exited, he would not be able to find his way in these passages even after living a _year_ in the underground caves.

It was a taxing experience, running through those corridors, every sense on high alert for any sign of trouble. They were going steadily up now, and Kirk had begun to sweat. He could still make out Kaitsumi's thin back ahead of him, and Liam's wide shoulders directly in front of him. Looking down at his feet and sprinting further upward still, he did not immediately realize it when the two in front of him stopped abruptly. He skidded to a halt just in time to avoid knocking Liam headlong into his sister, and looked up in confusion to see the reason for the halt.

They had come to a door.

Kait crouched by frame, her ear pressed against the cold metal, listening intently. She motioned for them to step closer. "This is it," she mouthed, and Kirk could tell despite the darkness that she had gone pale, "The southwest gate is just beyond this door." She pressed her ear harder against the metal. "I cannot hear anything," she said skeptically. Turning to her brother, she said grimly, "Are you ready?" Kirk saw the slight quiver of her hands when she said it.

He could not see Liam's face from his position, but he saw the set of the man's shoulders and saw when he nodded his black-haired.

Kaitsumi moved to press the keypad by the door, and Kirk, in a fit of sudden concern, shoved Liam to the side and attempted to get to the door before her. "No, wait—let me—"

But she had already pressed the pad. The door slid open with an innocent _whoosh_ and they had a fleeting glance of a wide cave-like room before settling on the company of ten black-fatigued Maridian soldiers all turned as one to face the opened entryway.

Kirk did not stop to think. Shoving the two siblings ahead of him, he shouted, "RUN!" before flinging himself out of the doorway himself, shooting madly.

He took down three of them without missing a beat, but the other seven recovered from their surprise quicker than he would have liked. He only barely missed losing his leg from a stray shot. Cursing, he threw himself behind a pillar, as he did hearing the shriek of a woman.

Praying that Kaitsumi had not met her death, he flung himself out again, screaming madly as he shot down the soldiers one by one. Relief sent a tremor down his tense body when he saw Kaitsumi and Liam crouched behind an overturned table to his right, both alive and uninjured. But they were outnumbered and Kirk knew it.

Dodging blasts of phaser fire, he plunged right and fell back behind the table to join Liam and Kaitsumi. Breathing hard, he muttered to them quickly. "You used a blast to get into the main hall," he said urgently. "Do you have any more?"

Kaitsumi nodded wordlessly and reached into her jacket to pull out a small, round, grenade.

"Good," Kirk said, snatching it. "I'm gonna throw this, and you two sprint like all hell toward the gate. I'll be right behind you."

Not even pausing for their approval, Kirk pressed the activation button on the bomb and lobbed it over the remnants of their shelter. Pushing the two in front of him, they all sprinted amidst phaser fire toward the heavy gate set within the rock wall at the end of the small cavern.

They heard rather than saw the shouts of alarm from the Maridians as they recognized the bomb and then they were being blasted forward into the stone steps leading up to the gate.

Landing hard, Kirk struggled to get his bearings. His head buzzed and the blast from the bomb had temporarily deafened him. Blood poured from his lip and he had a cut above his eye, but he did not let any of this bother him. Levering himself up, he grabbed the fallen brother and sister by the scruffs of their necks and pulled them toward the door.

"C'mon!" he couldn't even hear the words coming out of his mouth, "The gate! We have to get to the gate!"

Kaitsumi was the first to get her feet under her again and she tripped toward the keypad next to the heavy metal gate. Punching it in desperation, she watched as the gate grated upward with an awful screeching and ran to rejoin Kirk and Liam. As soon as the gate had opened enough for then to fit through, they burst out into the open air.

With a final burst of a sprint, the three of them surged into the open daylight and Kirk had the fleeting impression of a rocky outcropping before they were running for their lives across a small yard and into a copse of trees on the edge of a forest. But they did not stop running even then. They skirted around underbrush and swerved around the thin trunks of the young saplings and only when they reached the edge of the grove did they stop.

Stretched out before them was a field, wide and green, and obscured slightly by an eerie mist.

And Kirk suddenly understood fully why his two companions had been so reluctant to come this way.

For on the field stretched out as far as the mist would allow him to see, were bodies. They looked like faint little bundles on the ground, but Kirk knew beyond a doubt that they had been Shenkarans—hundreds upon hundreds of Shenkarans.

_AN—A quick word about Kait. She is __**not**__ a love interest for Kirk. Absolutely not. I meant more for these two to be connected by their common determination and will to fight for what's right rather than an attraction for each other. I'd love to know what you guys think of her—and her brother. Are they believable? Please, please review!! Reviews help me write faster!!_


End file.
